Reversal
by Herald Aros
Summary: what is light or dark or big or small...[it's your reversal]


Disclaimer: Don't own Kingdom Hearts; I don't even own the computer I'm writing this on. If I did, it would've been up here at least a week ago.

Warnings: Rambling towards the end. Again. For the record, this one came first. Also, anyone who spots the Plato references gets some type of reward (I'm debating between e-cookies and requests...because I'm dead-bored, but what if I get a request I _really_ don't like? I'd have to do it anyways. So...hmm...) Also, light Sokairiku, _maybe_. Depends on whether you're squinting or not.

Other: Another one of the written-while-grounded ficts. Concrit and reviews appreciated muchly.

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_Reversal_

Light...and darkness.

That's really all anything and everything came down to. Light and darkness.

Light light _light_, the end-all be-all for anything and anyone that wants to be good. They never tell you about the downsides, though.

...And darkness. Dark dark _dark_ is the highest of the high for those guys who don't like the light guys. They don't tell you about the downsides either, but (they don't really tell you anything and) would you believe them if they did?

So, about these downsides. Well, with the _light_, you're looking at blinding radiance that tries to burn away everything except (itself and) your "one true purpose." For the _dark_, there's the little (tiny, really) matter of backstabbing, the power-plays, and the kissing up necessary to get much of anywhere in the field.

But those are big-picture _light _and big-picture _darkness_. The little pictures are much more pleasant.

Little-picture light is the smell of hot chocolate in the morning, the kind that's obviously homemade and you don't mind the lumps.

It's the taste of saltwater in your mouth as you drag yourself towards the beach, laughing at Riku's matted hair and Kairi's awkward waddling (but more with them than at them, because you know that your soaking wet brown outfit makes you look like a drowned rat and maybe you'll try a new color when you get home, like green, or even red).

It's the sound of wooden thunks and giggles and declarations and comebacks, all scattered about because it's random like that.

It's the feeling of sand beneath your feet and waves crashing on your ankles and leaning on something big as something smaller leans on you, all breathing the same breath (and you can feel their heartbeats — and yours — match up, all in tune, beating as one, and you feel like _sorakaiririku_ now).

It's the sight of them both curled up on the three sleeping bags, legs and arms and hair and blankets comfortingly (and painlessly — for now) tangled up together and with yours, all three of you young (too young to know the future, young enough not to care), younger than you've been in (gods, it feels like _forever_ — were you really once that young and carefree?) a long, long time, the two of them fast asleep and (ugh, is Riku _drooling_ on you? And he calls _you_ the baby! What a hypocrite) dreaming like none of you have dreamt in a while (too risky to dream, after all — you might _remember_).

_That's_ little-picture light.

Little-picture darkness is the smell of smoke, thick and strong and heavy enough to make you sputter and choke and gag.

It's the taste of blood in your mouth, all iron-flavored and almost-sweet, from where you bit your cheek or your tongue or your lip, and sometimes it's slightly sweeter and less iron-flavored, from sucking on a finger after you bit off a hangnail (it doesn't even really hurt, it's just really red and lots and lots of blood coming out fast — at least, that's what your ten-year-old mind is telling you).

It's the sound of shouting, loud loud _loud_ (_too loud_) and panicked, all hurried and rushing as the words trip over themselves and others to get _out_ (like all the people all around are, pushing and shoving).

It's the feeling of cold sweat on your pillow and hair sticking to your forehead as you wake up from the loud dream, feeling the carpet beneath your hands because you had knocked everything but the mattress off your bed with your tossing and turning.

It's the sight of a thundering, lightning-ing storm heading for your play-island, all dark and foreboding and disdainful of small, insignificant you that (it can sweep away in an instant, because you're the one who) dares to challenge it and its great big thunderheads and tsunami-birthing winds.

_That's_ little-picture darkness.

So you see, it's a reversal. Because big-picture light isn't all that great and big-picture darkness isn't all that powerful, but little-picture light is (more than just great, it's) _wonderful_ and little-picture darkness is (not just powerful, but also) _overwhelming._

Because little-picture light actually _matters_, and because little-picture darkness is actually _there_. You can put your finger on them, you can point to them, you can say "that's light" or "that's dark" and _know_ that you're _right_.

It's all in reverse; not that light is dark and dark is light, but small is big and big is small. So we'll keep our big picture, our _light_ and our _darkness_, because you, Sora, you just want your little picture, _your_ light and _your_ darkness.

And we'll let you have them, because they're your reversal and your Truths and now it's time for you to go back into the cave, into our big picture, and show everyone else your little picture, your reversal.


End file.
